Hello
by ThatCaveYouCallAChest
Summary: An argument between Alfred and Arthur leads to consequences that neither could have foreseen. Song fic based on Hello by Evanescence. Flames welcome.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys. This is my first published Songfic! yay! Flames welcome.**

**I do not own Hetalia or Evanescence.**

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The sharp trill of a school bell broke through the soporific silence that invariably surrounds a school during the last lesson of the day. With a cheer, students streamed out of the gates. Among them was a certain blond haired, green eyed boy. But his stance - tense, stiff-legged and arms swinging rigidly at his sides - betrayed that he did not quite share the euphoria of the others. In fact, his very presence at that hour was an anomaly; normally, being Head Boy, he had paperwork which would keep him behind an average of two hours. Although this day was no exception in regards to work, the reason for this break in tradition could be easily discerned by any casual passer-by who happened to listen to what he was mumbling to himself. That said, of course, everyone knew not to go near Arthur Kirkland when he was in a 'mood'. And - due to his quite impressive eyebrows being drawn down into a deep scowl - anyone could tell he was.

"Bloody git... Can't accept he's wrong... Stupid American... So bloody blind...why... Absolute idiot!" He suddenly stopped short and swore, remembering the mountain of work. Deciding it could wait for tomorrow, he continued to stalk across the grounds, his temper not having been improved by that recollection. "Alfred F. Jones, you are a bloody wanker!" People around him jumped, startled by the sudden outburst. He paid them no heed, scalding tears clouding his eyes and trickling down his cheeks.

Continuing to mutter, Arthur stormed out of the gates and into the road. There weren't going to be any cars, he reasoned, there never were when he left normally. Still angrily ranting about his friend, he continued walking.

He did not see the car.

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**There you go. Please R&R.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! And another chapter for this three-shot. **

**I don't own Hetalia or Evanescence. Reviews are love.**

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Chapter 2.

The canteen echoed with gunfire and hoarse yells, climaxing in a scream suddenly cut short. Someone swore angrily. A short, melancholy tune followed it out into the empty room.

Alfred F. Jones slammed his DS closed, shutting his eyes and exhaling. How many times could you die in the space of five minutes? His current total stood at 21! If Kiku ever found out about this... His gaming reputation would vanish! Not to mention the endless taunting that he would be on the receiving end of if Arthur-

Arthur. Alfred groaned and flopped back against the wall.

What the heck had they been arguing about this time? He couldn't even remember. It had been such a little thing. But neither of them had backed down and it had got worse and worse. Knowing exactly what to say to hit a nerve, years of blackmail, old grudges, rumours... All were used and trumped as the fight - and volume - had escalated, cumulating in both of them red in the face, bodies rigid, hands clenched tightly and screaming at each other. He had been angry, so angry. Angry at Arthur. Angry at the situation. Angry at himself for not being able to stop. So angry. And furious that he had found it necessary, in some twisted, imbecilic parody of logic that only arises when you don't think, that appears and disappears in a second, to reach out and shove his oldest friend. Not hard, but hard enough. Arthur had stumbled backwards, a retort drying on his lips. Hurt had flashed for a heartbeat in emerald eyes, then it was concealed in cold fury again as his mouth had formed a thin, tight line. Without saying a single word, Arthur had then spun on his heel and simply walked out of the room.

And he had done nothing to stop him.

_Damn it. _Then again, if he had, then he would have probably ruined the situation completely. And that was something he did not want to occur between him and his crush. As he decided, it was probably for the best. Glancing out of the window, saw that the weather was mirroring his mood; dour, overcast and about to rain. He stood. As a hero, he couldn't let this go unchecked! He needed to apologise! Then, of course, Arthur would probably shout at him and slam the door in his face, but they'd walk to school the next day as best friends again. And hopefully, soon, something more. Of the last few weeks had been anything to go by. An echo of his usual smile graced the American's features.

Slipping his DS into his bag, Alfred departed the room. He'd have to move quickly to catch Arthur. First, to check the music room. He laughed quietly when he remembered that Arthur still thought Alfred didn't know about his occasional after-school anger-release violin sessions. So Alfred had dubbed them. He soon reached the music suite. A haunting, heart-breakingly sad tune drifted out towards him as he crept in. Piano, not violin.

"Hey, Roderich!" The melody halted, the aristocratic Austrian sighing and pushing his wire-rimmed glasses up with one elegant finger.

"Good day, Alfred. May I inquire as to your presence here?" Alfred upped his smile to full power, blinding white teeth bared.

"Just wondered if ya had seen Artie!" The brunet blinked.

"Art-? Oh, Arthur!" He shook his head. "Regrettably, no. I haven't seen him all day. Sorry."

'Damn, he must have gone home.' "That's fine! See ya!" With that, Alfred hurried out the door. Roderich paused. Had something happened? He dismissed it with a shake of the head, pulled the bench closer to the piano and resumed the melancholy composition.

Alfred skidded to a halt outside the school. A huge crowd blocked his way forwards. Huffing irritably, he started to worm his way around the outskirts. Hushed snippets of conversation filtered into his ears, although he didn't really pay attention. If he had been less distracted, he might have wondered why such a large body of people were so creepily quiet. Or why some of them were shooting glances at him.

"...just walked out..."

"Didn't even look..."

"...couldn't have done anything..."

"...so fast..."

"Who..."

"...Arthur Kirk..."

Alfred stopped dead in his tracks. He must have misheard. There was no other possible explanation. There was no way it could be Arthur. Yet a cold lump of dread still solidified and settled at the bottom of his stomach. He turned and commenced pushing through the crowd; moving slowly, feet dragging along the ground like blocks of concrete. Any protests froze in the throats of those who he inadvertently jogged when they saw who it was. And he wouldn't have paid them any attention anyway. Then, he was at the centre; a wide circle surrounding a patch of Tarmac. The American continued, as if in a dream, towards the figure in the middle.

Arthur lay on his side, books scattered in front of him, spilling out of his torn school bag. One hand, the skin on the upturned palm grafted off by the rough road, was still looped through the strap. His left leg was twisted at an odd angle under the right, being forced down into the asphalt. Carefully, Alfred picked his way around the Brit until he could see his face.

His lips were slightly parted. A small frown still furrowed his brow as his messy blond hair fell across his forehead. Two slivers of verdant peered vacantly out from under long eyelashes - something Arthur had always hated, saying they made him look effeminate. (Maybe they did, but they were just another thing that Alfred loved about him.) A cut on his smooth cheek had left a trickle of crimson to streak his alabaster skin, before it dried in the cool air. His whole body was motionless. Blood leant the scene an unearthly, grotesque beauty; standing out against the Stygian road like liquid rubies; staining snowy skin and paper a deep, expensive wine-red; soaking up into golden, choppy locks from a small puddle under the Brit's head to form a colour match reminiscent of strawberries in summertime.

Alfred carefully knelt beside him, reaching out and gently touching the prone form.

"Arthur... Hey, Artie! Get up now, okay?" He slightly shook Arthur's shoulder. "Seriously, joke's over, dude! You're scaring everyone!" He let slip a half-hearted laugh. Whispers started behind him, which he resolutely ignored.

"Is he really that blind? Can't he see that-"

"Shh! Think he's in denial..."

"All that blood..."

A motion behind Alfred signalled his twin's arrival. Matthew placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Umm... Al, maybe you should... stop shaking him?"

"Why? It won't do any damage!" Alfred smiled weakly up at his sibling.

_Don't cry._

Matthew sighed. "Well, maybe that's true... Come on, we should go." He tugged ineffectually at his younger brother. Alfred tensed and resisted.

_It's not real._

"Hey, I can't leave him!" Sirens sounded, rapidly approaching.

_It's a dream. Not happening._

An ambulance screeched to a halt, paramedics leaping out. A few action packed, disorientating minutes later and the vehicle was racing away, lights flashing and sirens blaring, Arthur inside. Alfred was left standing bewildered on the road. Matthew approached again, this time succeeding in leading Alfred quietly away.

_Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry._

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**_Please review! Flames are welcome!_**


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